A Day In The Life
by Squashed Sandcastle
Summary: These are a set of stories which follow a day in the life of different Characters. My first crack attempt at humor, please tell me if I am any good! I started with Sark, because he's just special that way.
1. A Day in the Life: Sark

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF SARK  
  
5:30 AM: Wake up to hear the BeeGees singing Stayin' Alive on the clock radio. I love that song! I promptly bounce out of bed, in my Spongebob Squarepants boxer shorts, and dance around madly. Why did these guys ever go out of style?  
  
5:32 AM: "AH, UH, HUH, UH-STAYIN ALIVE, STAYIN ALIVE!!"  
  
5:33 AM: "STAYIN' ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE. . . . ."  
  
5:34 AM: Remember that I am supposed to be a psychotic killer, stop singing, and shoot my radio for practice. Mental Note-Must remember to burn those boxers tomorrow . . .  
  
6:00 AM: After admiring my perfect self in the mirror for a good twenty minutes, and then sculpting my hair to perfection for another ten minutes, it's time to pick out my suit for the day.  
  
6:01 AM: Hmmmm . . . . . . . . . Armani Black of Valentino Black? They both send out such different vibes.  
  
6:30 AM: Went through the Espresso Stand on the way to work. What a waste. The man working is so cheap-He insists that they don't offer anything more than a triple shot of caffeine. America has the WORST service. I think I'll be forced to shoot him. But only after he gives me my coffee.  
  
6:32 AM: Ugh, bad idea. Blood has spattered all over the chrome espresso machine-very messy. Oh well, the coffee's not bad.  
  
7:30 AM: Sloane is talking on and on to me again about his plans to create the ultimate Rambaldi weapon. I saw the sketches in the manuscript, Dumbass. I know what's at stake. Though if you ask me, this "ultimate weapon" looks more like a Rubix cube that anything else.  
  
7:45 AM: Stillllll talking. He seems to be having problems with the mathematician that we kidnapped. He is refusing to work with us. Hmmmmm . . . . . . . .He wants my advice. I tell him to just shoot him; that always works for me.  
  
7:46 AM: Why is he shaking his head like that?  
  
7:55 AM: Sloane's finally let me off. Oh! it's almost time for me to send my threatening E-mails.  
  
8:00 AM: One to the CIA about Sydney Bristow (when Sloane told me that we'd captured her, I almost laughed out loud. Then I remembered psychotic killers don't laugh.) One to Jack Bristow (Just for the Hell of it. He'll probably puff up like some overgrown elephant when we realize that we have his daughter). One blackmail letter to George W. Bush, one blackmail letter to Prince Charles, Three to Michael Jackson, and one to my Grandmother (I always KNEW those cookies of hers couldn't be an original recipe-but that's between her Pillsbury.)  
  
11:00 AM: In an hour I have to go bring Sydney Bristow, our prisoner (giggle) her rations. I think I'll go out and buy her some sweethearts to go with it. After all, it is almost Valentine's Day.  
  
12:00 Noon: Sydney didn't seem at all warmed by my generosity. I don't see why. Most girls would faint if a gorgeous stud like me brought them their bread and water rations on a breakfast tray with a rosebud vase and candles. Not to mention the Sweethearts that I smuggled in. I think I'm going to have little heart-shaped bruises on my arms now from where she pelted me with them. She's so cute when she's angry. Giggle.  
  
12:01 PM: She is giving me a funny look now. Oops. I think I giggled out loud. Took out my gun and shot the empty Sweethearts box to compensate. There, now my reputation is still intact.  
  
12:02 PM: She's still looking at me funny. This is awkward. I think I'll leave.  
  
2: 00 PM: Sloane has rudely interrupted me from my work to ask me Why I have a heart-shaped bruise on the side of my neck. He doesn't seem convinced when I tell him it's a birthmark. In retaliation I tell him he looks like a monkey.  
  
2:01 PM: Now I think he's just pissed. How am I going to solve this problem? Hmmmmm. . . . . . . . . . . . . Where's my gun?  
  
4:00 PM: Stupid thing was out of bullets. Now I am stuck in the basement room right next to Sydney Bristow's, awaiting my doom. Ooooh, look, there's a hole in the wall. Me and Sydney can pass notes. I just won't tell her it's me, and maybe she'll respond.  
  
4:05 PM: Just shoved a note through saying, "Is anyone there?" It sounded urgent enough to me.  
  
4:10 PM: Sydney just wrote back! Goody goody!  
  
"My name is Sydney Bristow, I am an agent with the CIA. Who am I speaking to?"  
  
Well Sydney, nothing like laying all your cards out on the table. The girl has no sense for Strategizing. Oh well, time for a little creative license.  
  
"My name is Jack Anderson. I am an innocent civilian who has been kidnapped."  
  
Hmmm . . . . . The initial message is good, but it's lacking a little personality. I definitely need to add to it.  
  
"I enjoy long walks on the beach, dancing in the rain, and Barbara Streisand. What do you like, Sydney?"  
  
4:15 PM: This girl has NO life. It's all work, work, work. She sent back a disgustingly serious message:  
  
"Huh?! Jack, this is a serious situation. If this organization kidnapped you, chances are you aren't going to be alive much longer."  
  
Must write a witty response. I think I'll mesh together a mix of lines from all the romance movies I've ever seen.  
  
"Yes, I understand that Sydney. This is a dire situation, and we are both victims here. That is why I want to get to know you a little better. Don't you see Sydney? We are all each other has! From the moment you passed that note back to me, I felt a connection with you Sydney. We have something here. Don't tell me you don't feel it too."  
  
4:30 PM: I was just waiting for a response from Sydney when Sloane had to barge in on and break our romantic repartee. It seems that I am still of value to him as a source for intelligence, and so he has decided to let me live, despite the monkey comment and the gun episode. But from now on, I am only allowed to have tranquilizer darts. Damn.  
  
7:00 PM: Finally home again. Am way too tired to cook, so I think I'll order a pizza. Joey's makes the best Pizza. If it takes more than an hour to deliver, it's free.  
  
7:59 PM: I'm stillll waiting for the stupid bloody pizza . . . . . .  
  
7:59 and 59 seconds PM: They finally came with the stupid pizza. The zit-faced kid who delivered it keeps denying my claim that it was so OBVIOUSLY over an hour. The Bloody Bastard's just trying to cheat me out of my free pizza. I think I'll shoot him.  
  
8:00 PM: Dammit. Dart Guns just aren't the same . . . . . . . . .  
  
9:00 PM: This day has gone to crap. I dumped the stupid zit-faced kid out behind the 7-Eleven, and came home to a cold pizza. This crap wouldn't have happened to me if Sloane hadn't taken away my gun.  
  
9:05 PM: Thing are looking up. Touched by an Angel is on!  
  
10:00 PM: Yawwwnnnn . . . . . . Time for bed.  
  
10:30 PM: I made sure to exfoliate tonight with a mask from Biore. Dusty basement cells are hell on my complexion. Put on my Spongebob Boxers (how did I ever think that I could get rid of these things again?), and snuggle down under my red satin sheets.  
  
11:00 PM: I almost forgot to write in my gratitude diary! I love this idea that Oprah had-it really helps you remember how blessed you are in life. Plus it always feels good at the end of the day to get in touch with your soul.  
  
Let's see, what were six things I was grateful for today?  
  
Touched by An Angel The Beegees Spongebob Squarepants underwear Sydney speaking to me-whether or not she actually knew who she was talking to . . . Long walks on the beach, dancing in the rain, and Barbara Streisand Dead Espresso workers.  
  
11:10 PM: Just before shutting off my light, I remember that I don't have an alarm clock anymore. How am I going to get to work on time tomorrow?  
  
11:15 PM: Oh well. If Sloane doesn't like it, he can shove it up his ass. 


	2. A Day in the Life: Marshall

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF MARSHALL FLINKMANN  
  
7:00 AM: Mom just came in and woke me up. She's made pancakes this morning! Mom's the greatest.  
  
7:30 AM: There's just something about Mickey Mouse pancakes that makes your day so much brighter and cheerier. Consider telling Mom now that I never worked at a bank, that instead I worked for an evil spy organization which I thought was the CIA but now I'm working for the real CIA, so It's all good now. It's kinda like, have you ever seen that movie, where the guy gets cloned, but then everybody thinks that his clone is the real him, and then there's that part with the severed head that's like, AAHH! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. OK, I'll shut up now . . . . . . . . . .  
  
7:33 AM: ooh! Mom's just made more pancakes! Have decided to wait until later to tell her about my job. She's so fragile, after all.  
  
7:45 AM: Time to get dressed. Let's see what Mom laid out on the bed for me. Gray suit and blue tie. Nice color coordination. Mom's the greatest.  
  
8:00 AM: Said goodbye to Mom as I went off to work, but I'm not sure that she heard me. Sometimes she has WWWF turned up too loud. Oh well. She's still the greatest.  
  
9:00 AM: Kendall just came up to me and welcomed me to the CIA. He says he has a very important job for me. He says first I have to go get him a cup of coffee.  
  
9:05 AM: Everyone here is so nice to me!!  
  
9:10 AM: Oops, forgot to get Mr. Kendall cream and sugar . . . . . . . . . .  
  
10:00 AM: I asked Mr. Kendall what important assignment he had for me, and he said that he'd think of something, but what he really needed me to do is go retrieve his dry-cleaning. Hmmmm . . . . . . . .  
  
11:00 AM: checking through Mr. Kendall's dry-cleaning to make sure I got it all. Gray suit . . . . . . . . . . Gray suit . . . . . . . . . . Gray suit . . . . . . . . . . . . . Black suit (for when he wants a change of pace) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Another Gray suit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hmmm . . . What's this?  
  
11:30 AM: Driving back. Still wondering why there was a large red evening dress and women's lingerie mixed in with Mr. Kendall's dry-cleaning . . . Will have to ask him about it.  
  
12:00 Noon: Gave Mr. Kendall his dry-cleaning. When I inquired about the women's ware, he got all red and puffy looking, and said something about how they were for his wife. He had forgotten they were in there. Yeah right, and my mom's married to Bob Barker. Does he think that I'm an idiot? I saw his finger. There wasn't any wedding ring. Something tells me Mr. Straight-Arrow Kendall might be flyin a little crooked these days. IF you know what I mean. You know what I mean right? You know . . . . . . flyin' crooked, and stuff, get it? Never mind.  
  
12:15 PM: Still haven't been given anything to do. Kendall told me to go to my cubicle, and he'll call me when he needs me. I'll just work on some personal projects, since I'm not doing anything else  
  
12:45 PM: Have found a way to convert nuclear waste into Lime Jell-O. Go me!  
  
1:30 PM: Sydney just walked by and smiled at me. Wow. I think I may have wet myself.  
  
2:00 PM: Have gone to Mr. Kendall's office to have a chat with him. Still haven't been given anything meaningful to do. Hmmm. . . . .. He doesn't seem to happy to see me. Seems I have broken up a conference regarding what to do with nuclear waste. Oh wait, he's asking me what I want. What I want is something to do.  
  
2:01 PM: Kendall has shouted me out of the conference room. Geez, what a grouch. See if I tell HIM my ideas for nuclear waste.Hmph.  
  
3:00 PM: Bored, bored, bored . . . . . . . . .  
  
3:15 PM: Have come up with the perfect plan. No more getting tromped on by everyone. Everybody, meet the new, improved Bad-Ass Marshall. And my first action as the new, improved me will be to blackmail Kendall about his *cough* habits.  
  
3:30 PM: Brainstorming a list of things that I've been needing that only the government could get me. So far I've got:  
  
Charizard Pokemon Card (I've bought seventy packs of cards already, and I STILL can't get that one)  
  
An autographed Picture of Elvis Presley (Mom's Birthday is coming up)  
  
Authentic Shaft Sunglasses (for the new improved Bad-Ass me)  
  
Authentic "Fonzi" Leather Jacket (yet another thing for the new, improved, Bad-Ass me)  
  
Copies of all files About Area 51 (I'm gonna get intel now and be a REAL agent!)  
  
Access to Government Laboratories (MORE secret stuff!)  
  
Ummmm . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Oh! And a lifetime supply of Pocky.  
  
4:30 PM: Have finally gotten up the urge to talk to Kendall. Time for smooth, Bad-Ass Marshall to come into effect.  
  
"Ummm . . . . . . . . Sir?" Don't call him Sir, you dumbass-you are equals with him. He seems very perturbed that I have bothered him yet again. Maybe this was a bad idea. No . . . . . . . . Think Bad-Ass Marshall.  
  
Now, what sort of subtle ways are there to bring up the subject?  
  
"Ummm . . . . . . . . . . I certainly like your 'wife's' clothing tastes . . . . . . ." Good, good. That was good.  
  
"What the Hell are you blathering about?" Ack! Confrontation! I can't stand confrontation. I think I am starting to perspire.  
  
"Look, I know about your little habit, which does NOT include your wife." Well, nothing like keeping smooth and subtle.  
  
"And . . . . . . Ummmmm . . . . . . Unless you give me what I want, it's going to become big news around the company water cooler, if you know what I mean . . . . . You do know what I mean don't you? It's like a line from that one movie-what was it called?? It started with a 'P' I think . . . ."  
  
"I GET THE POINT, MARSHALL!!!!"  
  
Wow. There's a lot of pent-up anger there. What he needs is a good foot massage.  
  
5:00 PM: Well the short and long of it is, I'm getting my Pocky! Feeling a bit odd though, about what Mr. Kendall said when I was done reading my list.  
  
He asked me: "Is that all you want?"  
  
And I was like, "Well, yeah, I mean, what else do you need in life if you've got Fonzi's leather jacket?"  
  
Then, from where he was leaning up against the desk, he started rubbing my leg with his foot and said, "I thought you might be a little more interested to know the extent of my . . . . . . Habits . . . ."  
  
Needless to say, got out as quick as possible. Will not pretend to know what he was talking about, as I am far too naïve and innocent for such things.  
  
5:15 PM: Waiting for mom to pick me up. It's raining, getting my perfectly combed hair all wet.  
  
5:20 PM: I'm WAITING in the Rain . . . . . . . Just WAITING in the Rain . . . . . . . What a glorious feeling, I'm Happy Again . . . . . . .  
  
5:20 PM: OK, Not really. I wish Mom would hurry up.  
  
5:30 PM: Something really big must have happened on Maury today for her to be THIS late. Last time it was when they couldn't figure out Betty-Jean Reilly's paternity tests.  
  
5:45 PM: What am I doing? I am Bad-Ass Marshall. I don't need my mother anymore; I can get home all by myself.  
  
6:00 PM: I'll Hitch-hike!!  
  
6:00 PM: Oh! Someone pulled over! Hopefully it'll be some hot chick that I can test out my new, Bad-Ass Marshall skills on. I can't tell with all those tinted windows, though.  
  
6:15 PM: Am sitting in the backseat of a black, unmarked sedan, with Sark pointing a gun at my head. Am feeling very stupid and defenseless. This might be the second time today that I have wet myself. When I asked him what he wanted, he just let out a laugh and said, "Hell, this is just for kicks." Then I asked if he was going to kill me, and he started mumbling something about his rights being revoked.  
  
Bad-Ass Marshall wouldn't stand for this. Got to think up something.  
  
6:30 PM: Am now in the trunk of the car. Note to self: Klingon Death Grip only works in Star Trek. But I am not worried-there are plenty of wires for me to fiddle with back here in the meantime. Not to mention a nuclear device. Sark may be smoother than me, but he's none too bright.  
  
6:35 PM: Fiddled with the wires enough for me to crash the car and make my escape. Also left their nuclear device in a puddle of lime JELL-O. Can hear Sark screaming "STUPID BLOODY SON OF A *****, I'LL KICK HIS ****ING BLOODY ***!!!!!!"  
  
6:36 PM: Am running faster now. Think I'll hide out in the woods.  
  
7:00 PM: Am running even faster after I heard something off to the side of me in the bushes. Sounded suspiciously like "Dueling Banjos"  
  
7:15 PM: In a coincidence that can only happen in an hour-long TV-show, I have run straight into my own backyard. I can see the plastic deer and flamingoes standing by the pond now.  
  
8:00 PM: Mom forgot about me because of Judge Judy, not Maury. Told her that both were stupid shows, and she looked like she'd been slapped in the face. She asked what had gotten into me. I told her, "Mom, I'm a Bad-Ass now."  
  
She has washed my mouth out with soap and sent me to bed with no supper. Maybe I should only do the Bad-Ass thing at work.  
  
8:30 PM: It's alright. Mom will be happy again once I show her the autographed picture I got. 


End file.
